


A rose has the name

by starlesssky



Series: Man, Woman, and a cat [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dream Sex, F/M, I'm not sure the Force affects this or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlesssky/pseuds/starlesssky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you want to pick a rose, you have to remove your glove.<br/>Even if the thorns hurt your finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A rose has the name

**Author's Note:**

> If you are new to this series, please read [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5973331) first.

_But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you've tamed. You're responsible for your rose._  
\- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry "The Little Prince"

 

* * *

  


It was the garden of her house where he proposed to her.  
He took her hand in his hand and looked at her. He was commissioned as an officer the other day and their parents hoped they would marry to boost their connection. He thought it was a bit early for them to marry, but he didn't intend to oppose their parents. It was just a marriage, arranged marriage, and he didn't need to think it so important.  
"Will you marry me?"  
She also looked at him, then bowed her head. He thought she just got shy, but soon he noticed she looked at her hand, no, at his hand, which held her hand, in the black leather glove.  
"Yes."  
She answered, almost whispered. The young officer - he was only 22 yet - smiled.  
"I was afraid if you would say no."  
She weakly shook her head. He had to tell his parents and her parents that they were going to marry, even if all of them already knew it would happen. He smiled again and began to walk, still holding her hand. They strolled in the garden. It was always beautiful and now many roses bloomed. He touched one of the roses, then tried to pick it.  
"If you want to pick a rose, you have to remove your glove."  
At her words, he turned his head to see her. She also looked at him, but not showing any of her born shyness.  
"Why? I don't want to get my hand hurt."  
"You have to take a risk when you want something."  
He stared at her, then turned around his body to her, narrowing his eyes. He released her hand, then touched her face, still putting the glove on his hand. She trembled a little at sudden touch, but didn't retreat.  
"You can't be any risk, no, mustn't, Millie."  
He called the name of his longtime fiancee. Both of them already knew how their marriage was going to be - no love, no affection, just self-interests of both families. He felt some pity on her. He had an ambition, and he had a talent for that, while she had nothing, besides her would-be-miserable marriage.  
"It means I shouldn't do anything besides what you would order me?"  
"No. I don't mind even if you would have some paramours, as long as it doesn't matter my career."  
She frowned, even glared at him, but he shrugged. It was him who had some lovers outside of their betrothal, but she never put it in question. Nobody of both families thought it a problem. Both of them could have some "fun" outside of their vacuous promise, unless it ruined the connection between the two families.  
"You have your life, but don't hope me to do something for your life. I will "behave" as your husband, but I want to be a high-ranking officer in the First Order, so I won't have time to concern about you, your life, and our "marriage" life, you understand?"  
She bowed her head, he could see that she bit her under lip. He took her hand again with his hand, still in the black leather glove, then kissed on it.  
"Don't worry, just wait till our first night. Then I'm going to touch you without any gloves, any clothes."  
He felt her hand shaking a little under his lips, and smirked.

  


*****

  


He stared into space, lying on the couch, then sipped whisky from the glass in his right hand. After finishing his work and having a time to relax, he could spend his solitary moment in his quarters. He put the glass on the side table and rubbed his face with his left hand, then looked at his hand, now free from the black leather glove.  
The mark on his ring finger was finally disappearing. He removed everything. Everything about her from his life, his life as a general, even if the only thing he had is the marriage ring on his left hand, which he always have kept under his glove. He could act like he never had a wife in front of other members of the First Order. Even if someone mentioned about his wife, he just shrugged and smirked, as like it was nothing to him.  
But in his solitude, it haunted him every time. He tried to remove every memory of her, her figure, her movements, her words, every moment with her in his head, in his body, in his heart, and he always failed miserably. He sighed and covered his face with his left hand. This was not what he wanted, neither what she wanted, he knew. But he couldn't decide which more miserable, to anticipate seeing her now far away from him but never get any chance, or to lament she didn't exist in the universe anymore. When the hope was going to break him, she just erased it. It was him who said she had her life, so she decided what her life would be. Because, he thought blankly, I was a coward then. He didn't want to take a risk, take a responsibility for her, and she accepted it, in her way. They spent their married life - not so vacuous as they imagined - for a decade, but they never took responsibility for each other, and, at the very last moment, she chose to utilize her life, to defend him, from his fear, from his anxiety, from what she saw in the bed that day.  
He should have touched her without a glove, he thought, he should have taken a risk, taken any risk, he should have picked a rose without the glove, not afraid of getting a scar on his hand.  
The door opened, and he knew it was Millicent. He ordered to make her cat collar which could open the door of his quarters without entering the code. So it was Millicent, and surely he heard her footsteps, and another light and soft footsteps chasing after it.  
Another footsteps?  
He pulled back his hand from his face and opened his eyes. She caught Millicent and held her in her arms. She smiled as Millicent licked her face. Every move, every expression, even her small laughter sound were not different from what he remembered. She sat on the foot of the long couch, just ahead of his boots, as if they touched each other, they would cease to exist. She rubbed Millicent's jaw, and the cat purred. He looked at her, while she didn't look at him. Millicent rolled into a ball on her thighs, and she patted the ginger fur, as same as she did to her husband's ginger hair.  
"Millie."  
He whispered, but Millicent suddenly woke up and jumped down from her knees, then walked into the bedroom. And she turned her head, to look back at him.  
"Yes?"  
He sighed, then felt every power in his body stopped existing. He threw back his head on the arm of the couch, then groaned.  
"Is this a bad daydream? Good nightmare? I finally got crazy? Or you are just an illusion I created in my head?"  
"None of them, and all of them."  
He raised his head from the arm of couch to stare at her. Nothing about her was changed since the last time he saw her, even her hair style, even her dress.  
"And why now? After almost a year?"  
"Everything has its own timing."  
He narrowed his eyes, then pushed up his upper body on his elbows and sat up on the couch.  
"Can I touch you?"  
At his words, she smiled a little.  
"If you can take a risk."  
He smirked back, and extended his bare left hand to her. He touched her cheek, then slid down his hand to the side of her neck. He moved his hand into her hair and ran his fingers in her hair. She closed her eyes like she enjoyed the sensation he gave her.  
"You shouldn't reappear before me, even in a bad daydream, even in a good nightmare."  
"I know."  
She covered her hand on his hand, which returned to her cheek. Always small hand.  
"You don't know how much I struggled to vanish my memory about you."  
"I know."  
She nudged her face into his hand.  
"You shouldn't have done that."  
It was after an attacking operation succeeded. One of his subordinates walked near him, and looked up to him with hesitation. He never scolded his subordinates about his mistakes in front of others, so he shouldn't have been so hesitated, but he hesitated.  
"We got a comm from your steward, Sir."  
He frowned. He told his wife and servants not to send comm to him on board, and they never sent, until now.  
"He said your Madam died in an accident."  
Every movement on the bridge stopped. He felt all of the attention on the bridge threw at him. Then, he smirked.  
"And?"  
Because he already knew the reason.  
"You shouldn't have known me so much, Millie."  
"I know."  
And she knew him, perhaps more than himself. He threw his arms around her and held her small frame against his body tightly. He buried his face in her neck. She smelled like roses, as always. He kissed the column of her throat, being satisfied to hear her moan escaped from her throat. While one hand held her lower back, the other hand began to explore her skin, tucking the hem of her dress up and rubbed her leg. He dragged her body till she sat on his thighs, then he left her neck and looked up to her. She bit her under lip, it was one of her habits when she felt anxiety, or, anticipation. And he caught her under lip between his lips. Soon they kissed, deepened it, drank their moans each other.  
"You haven't released your needs...?"  
She asked under the breath, and he chuckled, noticing his bulge in his trousers duck into her skin.  
"I did... in my hand."  
He kissed her ear and licked the root of her ear, where was one of her sweet spots.  
"You are free from your marriage now, no?"  
"Is it a bad thing to be chaste to my wife?"  
He looked at her face, even with a smile, while she stared at his blue eyes.  
"I'm no longer your wife."  
Her left hand touched his face, then he noticed, noticed that she didn't have the marriage ring on her ring finger any longer. He grabbed her left wrist, then kissed on her ring finger, where the ring used to be.  
"You are."  
"No."  
She frowned a little frustrated, and he smirked.  
"You are, as long as you live in my head."  
His hand slid under her dress, while his other hand began to undress himself. In his quarters he wore casually, only his collared black shirt and his black trousers. He managed to unzip his boots and open his shirts in a hurry then moved to undress her. He once looked into her eyes, to make sure she was ok, ok about what would happen when they stayed together privately, and his wife nodded with a flush, but not reluctantly.  
Because, they needed the same thing.  
As she pulled up her dress through her head, he threw his black collar shirt and undershirt on the floor. He kissed on her collarbone like a feather, feeling her pulses quickened while putting his both hands on her waist to enjoy the texture of her skin. Her hands slid into his ginger hair, messing up his well-fixed hairstyle, but he didn't mind. She now sat on his knees, putting her knees on each side of his thigh. He chuckled at his wife rubbing her center - now covered by her already wet underwear - on his bulge, and clasped her bra to let it go down. He lowered his head and showered her breasts with his kisses, then took one of her nipples in his mouth. He pressed his lips on and wrapped with his tongue, then satisfied to feel his wife's deep moan through her skin. One of her hands slid down from his hair to his spine, then scratched her nails lightly along it. It drew a sharp moan from him, and he released her nipple from his mouth, then met her gaze. He smiled at his wife's lustful blue eyes, and put his lips on hers, grabbing the waistband of her underwear. He slid it down till her ankle, then returned to knead her breasts in his both hands. He helped her to slide down his trouser and underwear together with half rising his lower back and kicked it off. He kissed her neck again while she strode over him. His hand left her breast, then ran downward, explored her skin and touched her wetness. He bit his under lip at her small hiss. He opened and rubbed her most sensitive nub, holding her lower back with his other hand. He knew every part of her where he could ignite her desire, while she knew every response from her which she could turn him on hard. She put her hands on each of his shoulders, shaking her head weakly, and it told him she was getting closer.  
"No, no, no, I... I don't want..."  
But it was what he wanted. He wanted to make his wife feel good, lead her to the high. She gripped his shoulder, half whispering, half shouting in his ear.  
"Why don't you enter me?"  
His fingers left her wetness, then grabbed the base of his length. He positioned the tip of his hardness into her slit while holding his wife's waist not let her slide down on it, then pushed her lower back down with both hands to slide in one smooth motion. She scratched her nails into the skin of his shoulders, letting out her loud moan, then put around her arms around his neck and came hard, clenching him inside of her. He hissed at her body's reaction, holding her tightly not to let her bounce on him. He bit inside of his mouth hard, even till he tasted blood in his mouth, in order to avoid his climax. She moaned weakly, whispered his name again and again on his shoulder skin, but gradually came back from her climax. He put her hair behind her ear, then whispered in a low voice.  
"So good?"  
She shook her head on his shoulder, but it didn't mean "no", both of them knew.  
"...You didn't come."  
As she noticed he was still hard in her, he put his lips on hers.  
"I don't want to finish this so soon... after a year?"  
She smiled weakly, even shyly. After a decade of their marriage and so many experiences they shared in their bed, she still kept some of her shyness and pureness in her and he - had to admit - admired it so much.  
They kissed, but soon she pulled back her lips from his and frowned.  
"You have a cut in your mouth."  
He smirked, kissing her again.  
"You forget how tight you are around me?"  
She blushed deeply though she tightened around him a bit, perhaps out of her intention. He groaned from his chest, then rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, whispering in a low voice.  
"Ride on me."  
She blushed till her ears, but lifting her lower back, using his shoulders as her support. She hesitated for a moment, but slid down along his length, then, began to repeat these actions. He met her movement with thrusting up his ass, while they grabbed their faces each other and tangled their tongues. It was their favorite position and he noticed they couldn't last at this pace so long. But he didn't think to slow down or stop, he just wanted that it would blow them away together. She threw her body on him, holding him in her arms, putting her hands, her small hands on his back, while he grabbed her thighs and encouraged to pace up their movements.  
"Millie."  
He repeated her name again and again, like her name was a prayer, and surely, she was his prayer. He anticipated to see her in his duty in the First Order and it kept him human. And when the hope was going to slip off from his hand and finally his fear was about to swallow him, she chose to break it. Break the hope. And it meant both of them were going to break down, not with fear, but with emptiness.  
But he didn't mind it, at all. As long as she was with him.  
They shuddered together, in their too intense climax. Nothing existed around them, no First Order, no Republic, no Resistance, no war to rule the galaxy, even no galaxy own, just them, a man and woman, once linked by the arranged marriage, but still connected on the level of their souls. As he recovered from his white vision, he heard she sobbed on his shoulder. He patted her head softly and soothed her whispering into her ear.  
"Shhh, shhh, it is okay, it is fine."  
She kept sobbing, so he caught her chin and turned her face to him, licked her tears then kissed her. He heard she whispered his name under her breath and laughed.  
"You have to remember how chaste I am for a decade of our marriage."  
"You are."  
"As much as you, my wife."  
"I'm not your wife any longer."  
She frowned, but sadly this time.  
They intertwined their fingers of their both hands. He looked up at her blue eyes, while she stared at his blue eyes, as like they had noticed each other for the first time.  
"No."  
He muttered, looking into the blue of her eyes.  
"You are."  
As long as he could keep her existence in his heart.  
He closed his eyes, and felt his wife's soft and warm lips on his eyelid.

  


The darkness still sat in his quarters. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then sat up on the couch. He looked at the side table and stared at the empty glass blankly, then ran his fingers through his hair irritably. He sighed in frustration, feeling ashamed like a teenager. Then he heard Millicent meowed.  
"Sorry Millicent. You are hungry, no?"  
He stood up from the couch and walked toward the sideboard where he kept her canned food. But Millicent didn't appear in his view like always, and he frowned. He walked toward his bedroom, clicking his boots.  
"Millicent?"  
He looked into the bedroom, and found his cat scratched his bedside table lightly. He frowned, not at scratching, but at the bedside table.  
"Millicent, what you got interested in?"  
As he held her up in his arms, she purred. He rubbed her head softly, and when he saw his empty ring finger, suddenly he remembered. He put her down on the floor, walked near the bedside table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small velvet case. He opened it and took the marriage ring, which he has removed and locked away.  
He looked at it, then turned it to see the phrase carved inside.  
"Till death do us apart."  
And still, they were together, even if it was just in a bad daydream, in a good nightmare.  
He put it on his ring finger. Millicent nudged her head into his boots, as like she agreed with him.

  


*****

  


As he entered the sitting room, his steward bowed his head.  
"Welcome back, Sir."  
He nodded, pulling off his hat, but holding in his hand.  
"Nothing happened?"  
"Nothing at all."  
As the steward answered, he smiled. He has left his house for three months, but he didn't have so much time to spend in his house.  
"Good. I'm going to go back three days later. Supreme Leader Snoke wants me to lead a new operation."  
"I understand, Sir."  
He looked around the sitting room, then frowned a little.  
"...Where is Millie?"  
He sent a comm to tell he would come back home soon, so his wife must have known when he would arrive.  
"Madam went to the greenhouse. She told us she wanted to pick some roses."  
The greenhouse. He thought for a moment, then turned to the steward.  
"I want to make no one come around the greenhouse for an hour at least, and get a bath and tea ready for us."  
The steward blinked, but he turned around to the door, which led to the greenhouse.

  


The greenhouse was her favorite place. She took care of her favorite flowers on her own even if it was not an appropriate hobby for an officer's wife, but he let her do it. She was especially enthusiastic about roses, and many roses bloomed at this season.  
He entered the greenhouse, closing the door silently. He found his wife sitting on a chair in front of the workbench. He walked toward her, not so loudly, not so silently, putting his hat on the chair beside of the door, taking his coat to hang it up on a branch of a tree, taking his gloves from his hands to throw them on the floor. She turned her head around at that sounds and saw him, then smiled.  
"So soon?"  
"You forget I was promoted to Major? They have to give me quick deliver to my home."  
He stood next to her, and when he looked at her hands, he frowned.  
"Millie, why don't you put gloves when you pick roses?"  
He saw some small scars on her hand given by the thorns of roses. She picked up a rose from the work bench.  
"You have to treat them carefully, with bare hands."  
She smiled, smelling the rose. He took the rose from her hands, raising his eyebrow at the pain from the thorns, and put it on the workbench, then, took her hand in his hand to kiss her fingers. He felt her shiver under his tongue when he licks her scars.  
"It means you want me to treat you with my bare hands, huh?"  
She flushed, then cleared her throat.  
"Behave, my husband."  
"Even after three months absence?"  
His lips ran down along her finger, then spotted at her ring.  
"I don't want the servants, uh, walks into the weird situation."  
"Don't worry. I told them not to come around for an hour at least. They know how much their Master missed his Madam."  
His lips left her hand, then brought his face near her face, now blushed deeply.  
"Ah, I'm going to finish to pick roses soon, then we can go back our... bedroom?"  
She tilted her head, with a shy smile, but he kissed on her forehead.  
"No."  
She shivered under his lips, like his small voice shook her soft skin.  
"I don't want to waste any time with you."


End file.
